There are a lot of topics I could write about—at least a few with authority. And there are some that I can at least raise an educated opinion on. And there are some that I can only voice empathetic support for, but lacking any real intrinsic understanding. The “Black Lives Matter” movement and the current riots and protests fall into that latter category. I’m not black, and have lived with more than a little white privilege. I really haven’t had the cause to even consider whether or how much of that privilege I’ve enjoyed throughout my life. I guess I haven’t been in many situations where it was even potentially an issue.

I was raised to believe that all people deserve respect, and to at least attempt to observe with some sense of “what if that was me?” I’ve tried to raise my kids that same way, and see it in their lives and actions, in the people they’ve chosen as life partners, and in the way they are raising my grandchildren. And yet, they all live that same white privilege.

I have mixed feelings about all the riots, violence, and destruction of property. I can’t fathom any justification for violence against any human being, or willful destruction of property either, for that matter. I guess I just find it really sad that we, as a country, have reached a point where it seems that is the kind of action that it takes to wake people up to some pretty harsh realities.

I watched the videos of the officer with his knee on the neck of George Floyd. Such a disturbing video, for so many reasons, not the least of which was the death of that young man for no good reason. I found the cold look on the face of the officer, and the slow roll of his knee unnerving. That George cried out for his mother tears at my maternal heartstrings. And that he went limp and unresponsive for two minutes or more before the officer got up is despicable.

How in the world was that officer raised that he could—and would—do such a thing so coldly and deliberately?

I don’t begin to know how to fix the here and now of all this. I can only hope that the extremes of the protests—and the sheer numbers of people actively engaging in those protests—will somehow cause change to happen for the better.

The long term fix is more challenging and begins at home and at birth. We need to be raising our children to respect all life, and raising them to put themselves in the shoes of others. We take deliberate steps to teach our kids about stranger-danger, so how do we incorporate the lessons of empathy and respect for those who are different, while still protecting them from the strangers who ­are dangerous?

It seems to me that the roots of racism are based in lack of knowledge and familiarity. We don’t trust what we don’t see ourselves in. If we spend more time among diverse people and cultures, I think it becomes easier to find that a lot of that difference is only skin-deep. We need to be teaching our kids that there are many ways to see the world and to celebrate life, and that other folks have just as much right to their culture and traditions as we do. Maybe the focus on those important stranger-danger lessons needs to be on helping kids learn the warning signs—not that somebody is different from themselves, but that something they are doing is somehow outside the realm of acceptable—and safe—behavior.

I don’t know. Teaching these lessons to young children today isn’t easy, and it won’t solve the incredible tensions and hurts going on today. I only hope that cooler heads will begin to prevail and to open up serious conversations that can lead to changes in programs and policies—and attitudes. Let’s hope this begins sooner rather than later.

 You've got to be taught to hate and fear,
 You've got to be taught from year to year,
 It’s got to be drummed in your dear little ear,
 You've got to be carefully taught.
 You've got to be taught to be afraid
 Of people whose eyes are oddly made,
 And people whose skin is a different shade,
 You've got to be carefully taught.
 —Matthew Morrison, Oscar Hamilton, “You’ve Got to be Carefully Taught,” South Pacific 

© Melissa Clark Vickers 2020

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